‘I couldn’t keep her a prisoner, Alison,’ she replied kindly. ‘Your dad talked her into coming back. At the end of the day she obviously still loved him, despite everything.’
Alison sniffed. ‘My sister thinks a lot of you. Admires you.’
‘I think a lot of her too.’
‘She thinks you’re going to swoop in and save us.’
‘I will do everything I can to help.’
‘We don’t need your help,’ she said stubbornly. ‘We only need each other.’
‘But Alison …’
‘I mean it,’ she said coldly. ‘We need to be by ourselves. You have to leave us alone. You’ll just confuse Immy. She’s done nothing but harp on about her “perfect summer’’,’ she used air-quotes angrily, ‘ever since she got back in September.’
‘It’s because she met a boy …’
‘No, it’s not. It’s not just that. It’s you, you and your arty-farty ways, wafting around in silk scarves or whatever it is you do all day in between your paintings, in your fancy house with your own wood. Who has their own bloody wood?!’
Dorothea thought it best to stay silent.
Alison shook her head angrily, tears springing up in her eyes.
‘Alison, love, I don’t want to do anything that will cause you or your sister distress.’
‘Then leave us alone,’ she snapped. ‘Leave us alone! You’re just making everything worse. You’re giving her ideas …’
‘What do you mean?’
Alison’s angry face flushed an even deeper red. ‘She needs to get on with her life. Do well in school. She needs to get away from this … from this place, Dorothea. And she won’t do that if she thinks she can have a life with you and this boy in your, like, magical wood or whatever and …’ She sniffed. ‘And I promised Mum. Don’t you see? I promised her that I’d look after Immy if anything bad happened. That I’d get her through school and on to university. She’s clever. She’s academic. Not like me …but she’s also fanciful and she admires you and your life and thinks that she can have it too. But it’s unattainable for people like us …’
‘No, it’s not, Alison. I was brought up in a place much like this. We were … I didn’t have much money growing up and …’
‘This is what I mean!’ An older couple turned around at the sound of Alison’s raised voice. ‘Please. Just let me handle it. Leave us alone. Promise me, Dorothea. Don’t …’ She gulped down a sob. ‘Don’t take her away from me.’
Dorothea stared at Alison, aghast. ‘I’d never do that. I only want to help. Please don’t get upset. I’ll do whatever you think is best.’ Dorothea could see the elderly couple making their way over to them, their faces concerned. ‘As long as you promise me that if things get difficult, if you ever need money … or help, or anything, that you’ll let me know.’ Dorothea reached into her bag and took out a business card, handing it to Alison. ‘This is my number and email address. Promise me.’
‘Okay. I promise.’ Alison took the card and wiped angrily at her eyes with her cuff.
‘Is everything okay, Alison?’ asked the woman, clutching her husband’s arm and eyeing Dorothea suspiciously.
Alison brushed a hair away from her face. ‘Yes, thank you, Grace. Everything is fine. Dorothea was just leaving.’
Dorothea hesitated, wanting to say goodbye to Imogen, wanting to protect her somehow.
‘Weren’t you, Dorothea?’ Alison stared at her pointedly.
‘Yes, yes, I was. Please say goodbye to Imogen for me, won’t you? I don’t want her to think that I don’t …’ She swallowed back her sadness, ‘… that I don’t care.’
Alison nodded tersely and Dorothea had no choice but to leave.
It wasn’t until she was back in her car that she allowed herself to cry.
28
Imogen
‘Are you planning on writing a piece on Dorothea?’ asks Josh as soon as Annette has left. He’s clearing away the plates so I can’t see his expression, but his tone is cold.
